


The Case of the Pretend Paramour

by ANGSWIN



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Crossover, Crossover Pairings, F/M, Family, Fluff, Friendship, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2020-01-04 08:38:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18340082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ANGSWIN/pseuds/ANGSWIN
Summary: Sherlock refuses to believe that Mycroft not only has a real girlfriend, but that he is actually bringing her to meet their parents.





	The Case of the Pretend Paramour

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2019 Hermione's Haven Bingo challenge  
> Square: B3 - Prompt: Fake Dating

“He is obviously lying,” Sherlock stated in a matter-of-fact tone after his eyes cleared and he dropped his steepled fingers down from their previous location in front of his lips and chin.  It was his go-to thinking position – one that he would slip into during any problem that required some deep thought.  John had seen Sherlock in such a state many times before and therefore knew that it was useless to try and speak to his former flatmate when he was obviously in his “Mind Palace.”  Consequently, when the doctor arrived at 221B Baker Street to see the familiar scene in progress, he just sighed and went straight into the kitchen to make some tea and wait out Sherlock’s mental process. 

“Who is lying?” John asked in response to the sudden statement as he emerged from the kitchen to hand his friend a cup that was prepared just the way he liked it.

Sherlock did not seem surprised by John’s presence at all, nor did he remark upon it. He just took the tea with the slightest of nods.  “Mycroft,” he answered bluntly in response to John’s question, though.  “He told our mother that he was bringing his _girlfriend_ to her birthday dinner.”

John, obviously shocked by the idea, choked on the tea that he had just swallowed. “Mycroft has a girlfriend?” he asked, once he had managed to swallow the offending liquid.  He just could not imagine it.  Mycroft had never shown interest in…well…anyone.  In fact, if John had ever spared a thought to the idea of the man’s love life, he would have presumed that he did not have one…or even seem to need one…just like his brother.  In fact, in all of the years that they had known each other, John had only seen Sherlock act in any sort of romantic or flirtatious way when it involved getting further information out of someone for a case.  He doubted that Mycroft even did that.  The elder Holmes brother probably just used his favorite forms of intimidation…like surveillance and kidnapping…to achieve the same results.

“No, John!” Sherlock interjected.  “Please keep up! He does _not_ have a girlfriend.  He has obviously manufactured a relationship with a woman in order to appease Mummy’s rampant maternal sentiments.  Therefore, I predict that he will either show up at the dinner alone with an excuse for his supposed lover’s absence _or_ he will invent some national emergency to avoid going at all.  In the most extreme case, however, I suppose that he could always hire someone to pretend to be his paramour.”

“You think that Mycroft would actually pay someone to act like his girlfriend?” John asked incredulously.

“That scenario seems to be more likely than the alternative of him actually being able to secure a woman’s affection on his own dubious merits, does it not?” Sherlock answered succinctly before his mobile buzzed.  Just a moment later, they both rushed out of the door in order to answer Lestrade’s texted request for assistance at a crime scene.  Consequently, the case of Mycroft’s love life (or lack thereof) seemed to be closed for the time being.

* * *

“Don’t fuss!” Mycroft quietly admonished the woman standing next to him on the stoop, as she nervously tried to smooth down her lively hair before they entered his parents’ house and she met them for the first time.  At Hermione’s sharp answering look, however, he softened those words with a small smile meant just for her.  “You look lovely…as usual…and you know very well that everyone will be pleased with you.” 

In fact, just the night before, they had discussed the issue at length in preparation for this very visit.   Mycroft had explained the idiosyncrasies of his family in detail as he and Hermione relaxed together by the fire on his sofa.  It was their favorite way to unwind from their mutually hectic days before they retired on the nights that Hermione stayed over at his home.  “Mummy will probably engage in a sentimental maudlin display over you,” Mycroft had informed her, “especially if she has already _sampled_ the wine - as she is wont to do on a celebratory occasion.  Father will try to pull you into a discussion about whatever his current home-improvement obsession is and/or invite you to see his workshed.  I suggest that you try to avoid that at whatever cost because I believe that there are mice in there.” Mycroft paused to shudder at the thought before he continued on as if he had not just shown an uncharacteristic-and-very-human weakness.   

“Sherlock…well, Sherlock will try to deduce you,” he stated matter-of-factly, “and he will probably be quite rude about it, I’m afraid.  In fact, I think we can safely assume that he does not believe in your existence at all – not as the woman in my life, at least - so it will probably come as a blow to his deductive pride when he actually meets you.  In all likelihood, he will then try and retaliate with other uncomplimentary deductions – especially since he can also be quite childish at times.  However, Dr. Watson will probably be present, as well.  If that is indeed the case, he will exert his small amount of influence on my brother in an attempt to get him to behave…even though such interference will ultimately prove to be in vain.  However, I suspect that you will enjoy John’s company, anyway.  He is a steadfast man with a strong moral fiber and no small amount of intelligence – exactly the type of person with whom you prefer to associate.”

Hermione could not help but to smile at his somewhat pessimistic predictions of the upcoming event, as well as his accurate description of the majority of her friends. “I am sure that your parents are lovely people…and if you think that I will like the doctor, then I truly look forward to meeting him.  I am not afraid of your brother, however – especially since I am quite used to rude Holmes men by now, you know.  You did try to have me abducted at the beginning of our acquaintance…remember?”

Mycroft quirked an eyebrow and a little smirk of amusement curled his lips at the memory.  “Not abducted, just _accompanied,”_ he demurred.  “At any rate, how could I forget such an occasion?  When the car arrived, everyone inside was bound and unconscious – even the driver. Yet... somehow…nobody could remember a thing about how it all happened.  There were no clues, at all…except for the note that was left behind…with specific instructions…written in a very attractive script, I might add…to _Ask me nicely next time – in person!_ ” His voice trailed off as she snickered softly.

“Well, I certainly deserved better than just your average kidnapping after saving your life from those…What would you call them?...Domestic terrorists?  Don’t you agree, my dear?” The woman smirked at him.  “It worked, too!  You showed up at my door and politely asked me to dinner.  Once you loosened up a little and stopped being so bloody condescending, I even found that you could even be quite charming… as well as attractive!”  With those words, she leaned even closer to him and rested her head on his shoulder as she thought about how much the man, whom she had initially considered to be nothing more than a stuffy bureaucrat, had come to mean to her over the last year with his quietly passionate nature.

Mycroft automatically put his arm around the woman and pulled her even nearer, as he noted with no small amount of amazement…and not for the first time…that he desired a closeness with her that he had just never felt the need for with anyone else.  He pressed a light kiss to the top of her head and allowed himself a small smile against her hair when she sighed with contentment at their position.  Her arm reached over him in a half-embrace and she cuddled into his side as she finished her thought.  “After that night, one thing led to another…as you well know…and here I am…about to meet your family for the first time.”

“Oh…joy for that!” Mycroft muttered sardonically into the waves of her lively hair.  Hermione must have heard him anyway, however, because the gloomily spoken sentiment suddenly turned into an undignified shriek when the witch hit him with a wandless tickling hex to the ribs.

~~~~~

The next day, they stood in front of his parents’ home outside of the city.  Mycroft smiled down at his obviously nervous lover while, despite his pragmatic reassurances, she again touched her hair and murmured what could only be some sort of spell – presumably in a futile attempt to make it behave better.  The man had to admit that he was glad when even her powerful magic, as predicted, had no noticeable effect on her seemingly untameable tresses – especially since they were one of the first surprisingly attractive characteristics that he had noticed about her before they had embarked on their unlikely whirlwind romance.   

 _Romance…_ now there was a concept that he had often scoffed at for being nothing but sentimental claptrap.  However, that was before he met _her._   She had interested him from the moment he had first caught sight of her intelligent eyes set in the attractive face that was framed by the lively hair.  That was even _before_ the men who tried to forcefully escort him away from the British Museum’s charity event had been immediately and completely subdued by some mysterious method at the hand of his intriguing fellow attendee.  The woman had immediately vanished afterwards, though, and he was forced to seek her out by his usual unorthodox methods.  Unfortunately, those did not work at all for him with _this_ particular endeavor and he suddenly found himself playing the game by _her_ rules, instead.  He was quite put out about it…at least at first.

However, after certain revelations were made during their first personal dinner, he realized that she was one of Shacklebolt’s trusted people…and that she was also the newly appointed Muggle and Magical Liaison between the two governments, as well.   With that discovery, Mycroft found that he was even more intrigued with the woman and wanted to keep seeing her – no matter what.   He was not exactly proud of it, but he even went so far as to stage a few ruses to do so as he invented several soon-to-be emergencies with possible magical causes that she would have to come and investigate herself as part of her new position.  Hermione quickly caught on to his schemes, though – especially since he always seemed to be in the nearby vicinity in order to offer his considerable assistance, if necessary.  In actuality, however, Mycroft suspected that she let the subterfuge continue long after she discovered what he was up to…simply to humor him…and maybe even because she actually liked his company, too. 

Mycroft felt a surge of pride for Hermione at the memory.  The lovely witch was certainly no goldfish – even though she could probably turn him into one if she wanted to do so.  He had to admit that he found the combination of her intelligence and power to be exhilarating…and very sexy, as well!  In fact, the first time that she challenged him to a logic puzzle…and then led him into a bedroom in order to claim her prize after she won…had been the most memorable night of his life.

In addition to all of that, however, she was the only woman who had ever been willing to look hard enough to find the real man underneath the cold and distant _Ice Man_ persona that he had purposely cultivated over the years to serve him well in the unsavory behind-the-scenes bureaucratic world of government and politics – where emotions were often exploited as a weakness.  Hermione was one of the very few people who knew the real Mycroft, the one who actually had a heart…and knew how to use it…even if he had never realized that fully himself before she came into his life.  Now that heart belonged completely to her.  He could only hope, however, that this family visit would not ruin everything that they had built together since then.  He would have continued to avoid this meeting if he possibly could have, but Hermione had insisted that it was time for her to become acquainted with the rest of the Holmes family…and his mother’s birthday seemed to be as good of time as any to do so. Mycroft’s musings came to an abrupt end, however, as the front door to his parents’ house opened, and they were greeted effusively by the matriarch of the family. 

“Mike!” the woman cried out as she threw her arms around him while Hermione grinned broadly at both his mother’s use of the despised nickname and his obvious discomfort with the abundant affection she showered upon him.  However, her turn was next when Wanda Holmes* rapidly turned her attention to his female companion.  “And you must be Hermione!  Aren’t you just lovely?  What glorious hair!” the woman exclaimed with an honest joy that was accompanied by a hug that even surpassed her affectionate greeting for her eldest son.  “I just can’t tell you how happy I am to finally meet you, Dear!  It really was the best birthday gift that I ever could have received when Mycroft told me that not only did he finally have a woman in his life, but that you were also coming to dinner!”  Mrs. Holmes punctuated this pleased speech with another hug before she pulled Hermione along with her as she headed back into the house. “Please come in and join us for a glass of wine.  Sherlock and John are already in the lounge.”   

Tim, the senior Mr. Holmes, met them inside the door and greeted them with almost as much enthusiastic affection as his wife had.  They both seemed to be beyond pleased by her presence…and Hermione was amused to realize that Mycroft’s parents were much more similar to Molly and Arthur Weasley than she would have ever imagined.  In fact, the contrast between their welcoming warmth and their son’s aloof professional demeanor was painfully obvious.

While Hermione knew better than probably anyone else that Mycroft was capable of deep affection, she also knew that he rarely showed that side of himself outside of the privacy of his own home or when they were alone together.  For the rest of the time, the “Ice Man” was the only version of Mycroft that most people ever saw.  Unfortunately, he had worn the personality for so long that he had a hard time “thawing out” around others – even his own family.   As she watched him interact stiffly with his parents, Hermione felt very lucky to be in on the _real_ secret as she went in to meet the others.

~~~~~

“As we discussed the other day, John, I see that Mycroft went for the third option.  He decided to pay for it.”  The younger Holmes brother did not even bother to lower his voice as he made his observation upon Mycroft and Hermione’s entrance into the lounge.

“Sherlock!” the doctor cried out in an embarrassed reprimand to his friend for his offensive implication.  John realized that he should have foreseen it, however – especially since Sherlock had never been one to censor his thoughts or actions just for social niceties.

“What?” the detective asked his friend when he caught his tone.  Even though he usually did not bother with such things as tact and manners, he occasionally found that it was useful to use John as a gauge – a sort of social barometer.  “Not good?”

“A bit not good…yeah,” the doctor groaned, but it was too late.

Hermione had stopped mid-step on her way into the room and the bright welcoming smile fell from her lips and disappeared immediately upon hearing the detective’s statement.  “Did you just refer to me as a prostitute?” she asked in a low tone as her eyes narrowed dangerously. 

Mycroft could see both the ominous glint in those normally lovely eyes and the formidable stance that she had taken.  Therefore, he stopped his mother from interfering by placing a hand onto her arm.  “Let her handle it,” he murmured.  “It will be good for Sherlock to learn a lesson.”  Mycroft knew his Hermione.  She had proven time and time again that she could take care of herself and he also knew without a doubt that she would not welcome any interference from him – or any misguided attempt to avenge her honor - just because he happened to be the male in their relationship.  Therefore, while his mother was torn between beaming with happiness for her oldest son and frowning in consternation at her younger one, the former nonchalantly continued right into the room and took a seat…in order to more comfortably enjoy the forgone conclusion of the drama that unfolded in front of him…as the two most important people in his life eyed each other with terse interest for a long moment.

“Perhaps not a prostitute,” Sherlock agreed as he adjusted his original thoughts after his careful observation of the now-angry woman that his brother had brought home to meet their parents…as cliché as that situation was.  “While you are undoubtedly attractive in your own right, your sensible clothing, low-maintenance hairstyle, and lack of unnecessary cosmetics show an obvious disinterest in other people’s opinions about your appearance.  Since such unconcern would probably prove unprofitable to someone who made a living with her body, I am forced to amend my previous statement.  No, you are definitely not a prostitute.  Instead, you are much more likely to be a victim of coercion…perhaps even blackmail.”

He paused to nod and seemed pleased with the probability of his new deduction.  He leaned towards her eagerly.  “My brother obviously has some sort of power over you.  The only question is what kind?  Your aforementioned clothing is simple, but high end…as is your jewelry.  They are valuable pieces, but not extravagant ones.  They are the kind of pieces that a modest woman would pick out for herself – not something that would be given as a gift – especially from a man.  That suggests that you have your own money.  Therefore, you are not in need of his.  The lack of a ring and absence of tan-lines on your ring finger also suggest that you are not married, so the actions of your significant other are probably not being used to exploit you in some manner.  The way your eyes immediately scanned the room to pinpoint the inhabitants and to locate the available exits suggest that you have been a soldier – even if you are not one now.  That, combined with the confidence of your stance, tells me that you are habitually cautious, but are not currently afraid for your life.  Consequently, you are not worried that he will cause you physical harm.  In addition to all of that, you are also obviously a scholar and woman of intelligence – especially since your gaze lingered on the bookshelves longer than any other object in the room – including both John and myself.  All of which are very interesting little details that could reasonably explain what brought you to the attention of a man like Mycroft in the first place…but that still does not explain why you would _stay._   What could my brother possibly offer someone like _you,_ an attractive, intelligent, and capable woman approximately fifteen to twenty years his junior _,_ that would entice you enough to pose as his girlfriend?” 

The silence was paramount in the room as everyone stared at the two people in the middle of the intense discussion.  The strangely complimentary nature of Sherlock’s deductions was not lost on the audience, either.  However, while John and the Holmes parents were shocked by it all, Mycroft simply smiled with smug satisfaction at the knowledge that even Sherlock had immediately recognized some of Hermione’s superior qualities – even though his implications so obviously maligned Mycroft at the same time by the steadfast belief that Hermione was there with him against her will.  Nevertheless, he found that it did not bother him.  His brother had certainly said worse things about him before…and would undoubtedly do so again in the future.

However, the tension in the room was suddenly broken up by the unexpected sound of Hermione’s delighted laughter. “Oh, Sherlock, it is _so_ nice to finally meet you!” she exclaimed and the honest truth of the statement was obvious in her warm tone…as was the flicker of surprise across the man’s face as to the cause of her merriment. “Mycroft did warn me in advance that you would be rude.  However, fortunately…for you…I have been called much worse in the past since apparently you cannot initiate any sort of change, even for the better, without ruffling a few feathers.  Nevertheless, I have to admit that your deductions were practically the nicest things anyone has said about me in a long time…even if it was in an extremely roundabout way, of course!” She paused to smile brightly at him. “At any rate, I have a feeling that I am going to thoroughly enjoy getting to know you better,” she informed him while as he stared at her with a touch of disbelief.  Hermione then purposely turned away from the rather stunned detective to talk to the doctor instead.

“Doctor Watson,” she greeted the man warmly and extended her hand.  She could practically feel Sherlock’s eyes boring into the back of her head, as he tried to analyze her unexpected behavior, but she ignored him as she continued to introduce herself to his mild-mannered friend, instead. “Mycroft has assured me that you and I will get along very well indeed - in spite of anything that this one,” here she paused to make a slight nod towards Sherlock’s location without actually looking at him, “might have to say about it.”

“Did he now?” the doctor shook the proffered hand gently while he chuckled at the look on his friend’s face at the news that Mycroft and Hermione had apparently spoken at some length about the two of them.  Plus, he was not immune to the obvious compliment from a man as notoriously hard to impress as the older Holmes brother seemed to be.  At any rate, it would have been impossible to not return the woman’s delightful smile as he answered.  “In that case, you probably ought to call me John.”

“It would be a pleasure, John – especially if you call me Hermione,” she answered in kind.  “Now that the introductions are out of the way, however, you may want to go see about your friend.  Even though I don’t believe that he will need any actual medical aid, I am afraid that I may have broken him a bit, anyway.”

“If you did, then it could only be an improvement,” John replied lightly as he looked back again at Sherlock, who did indeed still seem to be at a loss for words – for once in his life!

At that point, Hermione turned to take her place on the sofa next to Mycroft when Sherlock finally spoke again.  “But…you did not explain…” he started to say with just a touch of uncharacteristic uncertainty in his voice.

“Nor do I plan to do so,” she answered kindly…but firmly.  “You’re the famous detective, so you figure it out.  You have until the end of dinner to give me the answer, by the way.  Consider it a timed challenge…if you wish!”  Then she nodded decisively before she sat down close to the other Holmes brother and placed her hand on his thigh. 

“You’ve already got him, my dear…as you well know.  No need to rub it in,” Mycroft murmured while John and the Holmes parents watched their interaction with interest.

“No, _that_ will be later when we get back to your house,” she whispered for his ears only and then gently squeezed his thigh before she removed her hand.  Meanwhile, she thoroughly enjoyed the sudden heated look of interest that flashed in his eyes – even more so because it signaled a temporary loss of control on his part - and she _loved_ being the only one who was able to shake up the normally implacable man like that.  Before she could even blink, however, the look had been tempered…and his usual careful control was back.  That was okay, though, since they both knew that she had won that round…and _yes,_ they did keep score. 

At any rate, she smiled at him brightly to denote her victory before she then turned her attention away from both of the Holmes brothers altogether and back to the Holmes parents where it really belonged.  They were all gathered there to celebrate Wanda’s birthday, after all.  Therefore, the younger men continued to quietly observe in various states of bemusement as Hermione charmed the Holmes parents with her attentive presence.  In fact, she cheerfully engaged in an easy-going conversation with the older generation while she answered their various questions.  While she left out all of the magical details, of course, she told them all about how she met their son at a charity event which led to a private date later and she also briefly spoke about her occupation in a minor role of the British government (an assertion that brought out a barely concealed laugh from one of the men behind her – especially since they had heard _that_ before).  She even put forth a few sensible ideas for remodeling the room in which they were currently sitting after Tim had broached that particular subject with her himself.  In addition to all of that, her acceptance of the offer to tour the infamous workshop after dinner was met with enthusiasm by the man and an indulgent smile by his wife.  Her offer to help in the kitchen when she heard a timer ring in that room was eagerly accepted, as well, and the three of them trooped off in easy camaraderie to the kitchen in order to make the final preparations for the birthday dinner.

“I knew that she would bewitch them,” Mycroft murmured, supposedly to himself - even though the other two could clearly hear him.  They could also see the small, but genuine, smile that played across his lips as he watched her move off to the other room, arm-in-arm with his mother as they chatted earnestly.

John was much more perceptive in some instances than his best friend – especially when it came to matters of the heart.  Therefore, he caught Mycroft’s meaning immediately and sat back in his chair -  pleased with his newfound knowledge.  He and Mycroft had never been particularly close, but he could not dislike the man - especially not when it was obvious that his brother cared as much about Sherlock’s well-being as he did…albeit in a completely different way.  In fact, he found that he was quite happy for the elder Holmes brother.  Hermione was indeed a rare woman if she could intrigue Mycroft, confuse Sherlock, and completely charm their parents at the same time.  He, the old Army doctor who was just along for the ride…as usual…was actually quite impressed with her, as well!

Meanwhile, however, Sherlock looked carefully at his brother with a new clarity…while he picked up on all of the clues that he just would not allow himself to see…or believe… _before_ his initial assessment.  Besides the multitude of small, secret smiles that adorned his brother’s face whenever he looked at Hermione (rather than his normal sardonic smirks), Mycroft’s shoulders and posture were also relaxed. Plus, his eyes were calm and he looked…strangely enough… _peaceful._   Even more surprising than that was the fact that Mycroft rarely encouraged physical contact of any type if he could help it, yet he had touched the woman with him almost constantly throughout the evening.  There had been nothing crass or obvious about such actions, but Sherlock had observed when his brother’s hand lightly stroked Hermione’s back as he guided her into the room.  He also saw the prolonged brushing of fingers when Mycroft handed her a glass of wine while she chatted with their parents, and how his arm draped slightly across her shoulders when he slung it casually across the back of the sofa behind her.  Sherlock also noticed how their legs and thighs pressed together discreetly as they sat closely side-by-side without either of them attempting to shift awkwardly away from the contact.

These were all little signs that not only was his brother _happy_ (which was strange enough) and in an obvious sexual relationship with the woman (which was unheard of - especially for a man who did not even like to shake hands), but they also pointed to something much more shocking.   Mycroft actually seemed to be in _love!_   Sherlock gave a sharp intake of breath as he realized the improbability of such an occurrence…yet he could not deny the empirical evidence in front of his eyes.  In fact, he was a firm believer of the old adage that _once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth._

After that revelation, Sherlock paid extra attention to the woman in question, as well – especially after she had taken him so thoroughly by surprise after his earlier assessment of her.  That was a feat that not many had been able to accomplish before and it piqued his interest even further in the woman that his brother so obviously admired.  He felt partially vindicated that he was able to pinpoint his brother’s surprising motives for the supposed relationship, but he still had to figure why someone like _her_ would be intimate with his stodgy brother in the first place…much less stay with him…presumably (despite his earlier conclusion) of her own free will.

Consequently, he watched her carefully after the men had rejoined Hermione and the parents in the dining room for dinner. He saw the way her eyes sparkled when she looked at his brother and how she laughed at the man’s signature dry, but often quite witty, comments.  He noticed that her touch lingered on Mycroft’s forearm much more often than necessary.  However, it was the sweet smile that graced her lips after his brother had leaned over to whisper something quietly into her ear that finally decided him.  He realized then that the improbable was indeed the truth in this instance, as well.  Sherlock was only ashamed of how long it had taken him to realize it…and he put down his fork immediately so that he could make his announcement.

 “The answer is _sentiment…_ apparently on both sides," he told the table in general, but he looked only at the woman in front of him as he spoke.

The others looked surprised.  However, Mycroft just responded in the same deadpan tone that he might have asked someone to pass the potatoes. “I’m afraid so, Brother Dear,” he said and the woman in question nudged him in mock outrage before he continued. “However, I just cannot seem to bring myself to be very upset about it.”  After that shocking (at least from the man in question) confession, all eyes turned to Hermione.  She smiled gently at the unexpected sweetness of Mycroft’s answer and her eyes practically gleamed with good humor as she replied.

“Not on my part.” She shook her head in a slow deliberate negative before she delivered the punch line.  “I just _really_ like his umbrella.” 

Mycroft choked a little at her irreverent answer.  However, it was met with a proud smile from Tim, a quiet snicker from Wanda (which she tried in vain to hide behind her hand), and a hearty guffaw from John.  Even Sherlock felt the corners of his mouth turn up as he decided that this woman was definitely not one of Mycroft’s _goldfish_ – despite her obviously terrible taste in men.

* * *

Thus, the Case of the Pretend Paramour came quietly to a close.  Even though it was not one that John felt he should write about on his blog, it…and the participants…were often discussed at Baker Street.  That was especially true since, as the months passed, Hermione became as much of a fixture there as she had at the home of the Holmes parents where she and Mycroft now visited every Sunday.  She even occasionally showed up at 221B without the elder Holmes brother since she had made friends with Mrs. Hudson as easily as she had charmed Wanda and Tim (who had already secretly revived their long dead hope of having grandchildren one day). 

For his part, Sherlock was pleased to discover that Hermione was one of the few people whom he could actually talk _with_ instead of _to._ Nevertheless, it soon became obvious that even though she was quite the well-read intellectual, there were still some peculiar gaps in her knowledge base – especially in the science and mathematics fields - which was quite odd for someone who had reportedly attended a prestigious boarding school for the gifted during her secondary education.  When he mentioned it to John, however, the doctor just laughed and reminded him that although he was a genius, he was the one who did not know that the Earth revolved around the sun – so who was he to judge?  Sherlock found that even he could not argue with such logic.  Therefore, he just chose to ignore the apparent inconsistencies in her education – a decision that was reinforced when Mycroft had also deemed it as extremely unimportant when Sherlock had alluded to his concerns around his older brother.  Sherlock knew very well that Mycroft prided himself on knowing _everything_ about _everybody_ – even if he usually refused to share such details with Sherlock.  Therefore, he knew that Mycroft was well aware of Hermione’s secretive past.  In fact, he had probably sealed her records himself.  That would explain why Sherlock was unable to hack into them – not that he would ever admit to an attempt to do so in the first place. 

At any rate, Sherlock realized that he was a bit irritated by the fact that, whatever her background might be, his brother had found such a rare companion as Hermione, first – before Sherlock had the chance to do so.  However, since Sherlock really had no need or desire for any romantic entanglements himself – plus, he had John - he found that he was content with the familial arrangement that brought, and kept, Hermione in his life.  He also eventually discovered that somewhere along the way he had added her to a compartment in his Mind Palace that contained a very small and select group of people.  He would not allow himself to label them as “Friends,” but he did not quibble about semantics when the word “Important” appeared on the door of that mental compartment, instead.

* * *

The night that Sherlock found out about her big magical secret was almost anticlimactic after the surprising way that Hurricane Hermione had taken the entire Holmes family by storm over a year earlier.  He was out on a case alone when he suddenly found himself surrounded in a dark alley by the very thugs he had gone out to investigate.  To his credit, he had taken out a couple of the assailants himself, but soon found himself overwhelmed by the rest, before he heard a familiar voice shout out “ _Stupefy Maximus”_ and “ _Incarcerus Maximus.”_  

With those words, and the accompanying flashes of light, the rest of the men suddenly fell over as stiff as planks while ropes appeared out of nowhere to bind their hands and feet.   Sherlock was not really shocked to see the magic…he had known about _that_ for many years…but he was _very_ surprised to see the person who had cast it.  As he looked at the last person he expected to see in a dark alley surrounded by bodies with the obvious question in his eyes, Hermione just shrugged. 

“Mycroft knew that you were headed out after this gang tonight and that John was otherwise occupied.  Therefore, he asked me to keep an eye on you,” she replied as she casually slid her wand back into her normally disillusioned thigh holster as she looked around at the mess she had made.  “I certainly hope that you appreciate it, too, because all of this _I found it necessary to perform magic on Muggles_ paperwork is bound to give me a headache when I have to file it tomorrow.”  As his steady gaze continued, though, she gave an impatient huff.

“Now, look here, Sherlock!” she said firmly.  “Mycroft has already informed me that he made sure that you had been read into the Statute of Secrecy _years_ ago because you have always been just too bloody nosy and clever for your own good…and he did not want you to be hit with an _Obliviate_ every time you turned around.  That simply would not be healthy for a brilliant mind like the one between your ears.  At any rate, I would have told you myself, but I knew that something like this,” here she paused to gesture around, “was bound to happen sooner or later.”  She paused to give him a wide smile that was a bit devious, as well.  “Truthfully, I waited because I wanted to see that exact expression that you are wearing on your face at this very minute.”  She chuckled at the way his eyes narrowed at her mirth over the situation.  “Now that I have finally seen it, why don’t we just move pass all of the recriminations and call in this mess to Lestrade.  Yes, yes…he knows, too...mainly because he is my Scotland Yard contact, of course…and we need to tell him that this one right here is the thief.”  She nudged one of the bound men with her foot and Sherlock noticed immediately that it was his chief suspect. 

Before Sherlock could ask, though, she went ahead and explained. “I saw him hide the evidence behind the second rubbish skip at the entrance right before he came back here…supposedly to kick your arse…before I intervened.  You are welcome for that, by the way.  Now…why don’t you hurry up and fetch it?  Then we can go and get something to eat.  Quite frankly, I’m starving…and freezing…from trailing you all over the city tonight while Mycroft had a delicious dinner at the warm and comfortable Diogenes Club with some stuffy ambassador or the other.  After that, I am going home to bed where, simply for the sake of petty revenge, I will make sure that I maneuver my icy feet directly into Mycroft’s pajamas!  Then I will magically record his ensuing high pitched Shriek of Supposed Death and play it for you tomorrow for a good laugh over a cup of tea at Baker Street while we figure out a way to tell John about this case without mentioning magic.”

After her rant, good-natured as it was, she gave a little predatory smile at the thought of her planned revenge.  Sherlock felt any resentment that he might have felt melt away at the sight and the corners of his mouth turned up in amusement, as well.  Hermione had always been more than a match for his brother!  Once he had gotten over his slight surprise that Hermione was actually a witch…and his disappointment in himself for not realizing it sooner (he always missed _something_ as he had once told John after he first surmised that Harry Watson was his brother instead of his sister) he realized that the situation really explained _so_ much about the constant air of mystery that surrounded her.  It was also why he had never been able to hack into her government records - since apparently he was searching under the _wrong_ side of the government.

Without hesitation, Sherlock offered an arm to her.  After all, witch or not, she was now his favorite relative - courtesy of the best decision his brother had ever made.  In fact, just a month earlier, he had stood up with Mycroft in a small private family ceremony while Hermione’s best friend, a messy-haired and bespectacled bloke who was also named Harry, supported her.  Wanda Holmes had wept joyfully through the entire ceremony along with her new friend, the plump matriarch of the large and boisterous redheaded league that had also attended.  Sherlock could not remember their family name since he had already deleted it from his memory to make room for something else.  However, he thought that it might have something to do with an animal of some sort.

At any rate, he agreed with Hermione that they had better places to be.  “Come along then, Sister Dear,” he therefore responded with his own unique style which mainly consisted of a touch of snark mixed in with deadpan courtesy.  “I would hate for you to perish from either hunger or the elements, and thus render my dear brother a widower so early in your marriage.  However, I believe that it would devastate me even more to miss out on what I am sure will be the highly amusing sound of Mycroft shrieking like a school girl.”

Hermione playfully nudged her brother-in-law and close friend (even though she knew that he would never admit that second part aloud) while her laughter at his statement echoed in the alley behind them.  Then she grabbed Sherlock and suddenly apparated away without warning.  When they reappeared in the alley behind her favorite all-night café, after feeling like he had been squeezed through some kind of magical tube yet being intrigued by the physics of such a feat, Sherlock realized that he had just irrevocably learned, yet again, to never underestimate the woman whom he had once mistaken for a hired escort.  It was a lesson that she had apparently taught his brother from the very beginning, as well - and not one member of the Holmes family could have been happier that the result of such an education had changed their family dynamics forever! 

**Author's Note:**

> *Since I was unable to find any reference to the names of Mycroft and Sherlock's parents in canon, I decided to go with Wanda and Tim. Wanda Ventham and Timothy Carlton not only play the Holmes parents on the show, but they are also Benedict Cumberbatch's (Sherlock) parents in real life! :)


End file.
